


Fragile Flower

by CalSantiago



Category: Dark Souls, Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalSantiago/pseuds/CalSantiago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, the Chosen Undead has found himself visiting the Undead Parish more often than usual. Whatever heavy burdens he may have on his journey, they always seem to disappear whenever he sees the shy young maiden robed in white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile Flower

**Author's Note:**

> Chosen Undead / Rhea of Thorolund short story inspired by VaatiVidya's Prepare to Cry video about her.

The sound of heavy boots dragging across stone echoed through the walls of the Undead Parish as the Chosen Undead made his way up the stairs of the newer church building. The young man had not visited this place so often before. He had no real need to. After all, the blacksmith Andre was holed up in the basement of the old church and after ringing the Bell of Awakening, going to the parish again felt redundant and unnecessary. There was nobody noteworthy enough to visit as well... Well, there was Oswald, but the Chosen Undead had made sure to respect his fellow travelers back at Firelink Shrine and thus had no real need to see the pardoner. That, and there was something vaguely... sinister... about the Carim priest, and the amount of souls he charged for absolving sins was ludicrous. He only ever had to absolve a sin on one occasion, and that "sin" was, to him, for a noble cause.

But lately, the Chosen had found himself repeatedly making trips to the parish. It was not because of Oswald or because of some important item he needed for his quest, however. It was because, well...

"Ah, hello there! I was wondering when you might return. It is a great relief to see you again!"

"It's good to see you, too, Rhea," the Chosen Undead said, removing his helmet so he could get a better look at the young woman. He was surprised when she greeted him with a friendly hug. Not that he minded...

"Oh, s-sorry! I don't know what came over me," Rhea said, awkwardly blushing as she pulled back. "Um... Let us talk of miracles, shall we?"

Rhea. The Undead cleric maiden from Thorolund. The Chosen had met her a few weeks earlier, when she and her two bodyguards arrived at Firelink Shrine. They were on a pilgrimage, a mission to retrieve something known as the Rite of Kindling in the Tomb of the Giants. There was something about Rhea that piqued the young man's interest, but he had his own mission and she had hers, and the two had no time to fraternize. But tragedy would strike the poor girl as she suffered through one misfortune after another. Tricked by Patches and kicked off a ravine, betrayed and abandoned by the bastard zealot Petrus, and attacked by her own bodyguards once they had gone Hollow... The Chosen Undead found Rhea crouched in a corner, bloodied and covered in cuts from the sharp rocks around her. Tears streaked from her eyes as she begged the young man to mercy kill her friends, as she could not bring herself to do so. The Chosen reluctantly complied, then carried Rhea back to Firelink Shrine. 

She was still trembling once the two of them reached the bonfire. Sieglinde of Catarina was there, thankfully, and the kindly teenage knightess brought it upon herself to comfort the maiden until she could regain her composure and heal herself with her miracles. The Chosen Undead looked on from a distance, worried about the maiden. But he could not dwell on the matter too much, for he still had his quest ahead of him, and so chose to leave her be for the meantime. He would be sure to make Petrus pay for what he did, however... He had been wary of the man ever since he met him, and now that he'd shown his true colors the Chosen was more than willing to exact revenge on Rhea's behalf.

When the Chosen Undead found Petrus, he was disgusted. The fat bastard was laughing to himself, pleased at what he had done. When he learned that Rhea survived, Petrus only shrugged it off, and the smug cleric sneered at the Chosen, dismissing his efforts as futile. He mocked the young man, accusing him of only saving the maiden for selfish, primal reasons, even going so far as to assume the Chosen had taken advantage of Rhea in her lost, confused state. Petrus chuckled sinisterly at the look of pure rage on the Chosen's face, and threatened to end the young woman's life once and for all...

That was the final straw for the Chosen Undead. Sin or not, he did not regret his actions that day. Petrus was no better than the monsters or demons he had slain, and if ending him meant Rhea would be safe, then so be it.

...

Rhea had since moved to the Undead Parish, as she was apparently uncomfortable with the large group of people at Firelink Shrine and was even more nervous around strangers after what had happened to her. And yet, she freely shared this information with the Chosen Undead, who had come to check in on her every now and then. As thanks for rescuing her, Rhea offered to teach him miracles— not that the young man had any real need for them, but still, he obliged. Truth be told, he simply liked being around the maiden. She, along with his good friend Solaire of Astora, had a kindness that the Chosen had not experienced during his entire stay in Lordran. Rhea had no hidden agendas, kept no dark secrets. She was a kindhearted young woman who only wished to fulfill her duty. But now that she had failed in her mission... and lost her friends, there really was no way she could ever return home, and the maiden was clearly broken by this.

"I do not warm easily to unfamiliar faces," Rhea told him once, as they sat on the windowsill and watched the sunset together. "T-the bonfire below is so frequented... It makes it difficult. I... have already lost all those who are close to me..." She lowered her hood slightly to hide the tears that were prickling her eyes.

And so the Chosen Undead took it upon himself to make her feel at home as much as he possibly could. He himself did not know why. He already had the daunting task of collecting all the Lord Souls, why exactly was he burdening himself even more? Well, to put it simply, he didn't see it as a burden. He was doing this for her... He wanted Rhea to smile again.

Whenever he came to visit, he made sure to bring a gift or two. They were small, simple gifts, such as a flower or a small gemstone he came across on his journey. Rhea initially refused the gifts, not because she did not want them, but because she felt undeserving. But the Chosen Undead was persistent, and the maiden eventually came to accept the gifts he gave her, and seemed to cheer up more each day. But still, the Chosen knew she was still stricken with guilt and grief over what had happened in the Tomb of the Giants. He often found her absorbed in prayer, oblivious to his presence until he announced it. But she would gladly spend time with him, even if it didn't involve teaching him miracles. 

Sometimes they would spend entire afternoons just engaging in conversation. The maiden opened up to the young man, telling him of her life back in Thorolund, how she became afflicted with the Undead Curse, and how she came to undergo her pilgrimage. Likewise, the Chosen Undead told of the little he could remember about his life before the curse, how he was taken away and thrown into the Undead Asylum, how Oscar of Astora set him free, his journey to Lordran... Inevitably, he told her of his mission to collect Lord Souls for the Lordvessel. A look of worry suddenly appeared on the maiden's face. By then, the Chosen Undead was Rhea's only friend, and she did not want to lose him as well.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" Rhea said sadly, playing with the white lily flower the Chosen had given to her. "How we Undead are sent on these... ridiculous... missions simply because we cannot die as normal humans do. It isn't fair."

"It isn't, yes," the Chosen Undead said with a sigh, "I myself do not know why I even accepted this mission... Perhaps I was just so desperate to find a purpose again. To find a reason to live out my life and not settle for going Hollow."

"Why do they hate us so much?" Rhea asked, pain in her voice. "Even the Way of White... All my life I believed they were taking care of all of us, but lately... Lately I've been beginning to wonder if this 'sacred' pilgrimage... is just an excuse to exile unwanted Undead. It sounds no different from the asylum they put you in."

"I... I don't know the answer to that," the Chosen said, trying to think of a way to comfort the maiden. "H-hey, try not to think about it too hard. My friend Solaire... He says that sometimes, you should just brush things off with a laugh. Laugh often, and gaze lovingly into the sun whenever possible! It helps keep your spirits up."

"Your friend sounds like an odd man," Rhea said, smiling slightly. "But I'm sure he's a very kind person."

"Yes, he's... a bit on the odd side," the Chosen Undead said with a sheepish smile. "But he's helped me out ever since I arrived in Lordran. Always smiling, always happy, always... er, praising the sun... I'd consider Solaire to be the closest friend I have."

"You almost sound as if you have feelings for him," the maiden teased.

"Ha!" the young man let out a laugh. "He's great, but he isn't the Undead I have feelings for."

"Hmm?" Rhea said curiously, and it was only then that the Chosen Undead realized what he'd just said.

"I..." the young man tried to find a way to recover from his blunder, but couldn't think of anything. Rhea was looking straight at him, as if waiting for a response. He felt a blush coming to his cheeks. He could see the maiden was blushing as well. A long, awkward silence hung in the air.

The Chosen Undead could handle monsters, demons, and other nightmarish beasts. But he could not handle this excruciatingly awkward moment. He needed to think of something...

But before the Chosen could speak, Rhea suddenly leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. The Chosen Undead was stunned; he had not expected the shy young woman to do something so bold. Rhea pulled back, her face completely red and averting her gaze from his. How adorable she looked...

The Chosen Undead took the initiative, and leaned in as well. Gently holding her face with both hands, the Chosen returned the kiss Rhea had given him. Only this time, the kiss was longer, deeper, more passionate. A good few minutes passed before the two pulled back from one another, blushing intensely and sporting large smiles on their faces.

"T-thank you," was all Rhea could say after the encounter. She looked down and began twiddling her fingers, unsure of what else to do or say.

"Rhea," the Chosen Undead said, "When I've accomplished my mission, I shall return here. And I am going to return that kiss ten times over. We... may no longer be able to return to our homes, but... If you'd like, perhaps we can have a fresh start and find a new home... Together."

"Y-yes," Rhea said, genuine happiness in her voice. "I'd like that very much."

She gave the Chosen Undead another tender embrace before he left, and he kissed her on the forehead as he promised to return as soon as he could. She promised to eagerly await his return.

...

The Chosen Undead dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He was in a dark, decrepit cell inside the Duke's Archives, and he had just seen the most horrifying and most heartbreaking thing he had seen throughout his entire mission. The young man hung his head low, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were prickling his eyes.

He thought back to the day he returned to the Undead Parish, only to find that Rhea was not there. A sense of dread filled him immediately. Petrus was dead. Lautrec was dead. Who on earth could have done this? In a panicked state, the young man asked all the travelers at Firelink Shrine if they had seen the maiden, only for none of them to know what he was talking about. The Chosen traversed several bonfires, risking attacks from dangerous monsters. He needed to find her. He needed to know if she was safe, or if she was even still alive. The young man's chest tightened with despair. He needed to find Rhea. He absolutely needed to find her...

And when he did eventually find her, the Chosen Undead was overcome with such grief he wished he had never found her at all... There, inside a cell in the Duke's Archives, was the maiden. But she was no longer the same Rhea the Chosen knew and loved. She had gone Hollow, lost all her sense of humanity, and all her sense of self. She attacked on sight, and even though the young man could not possibly bring himself to attack her, he had to eventually, lest he go Hollow himself.

Her pained screams as he drove his sword into her chest... They would haunt the Chosen Undead forever. As the young man knelt before his beloved's corpse, cut down by his own two hands, he could no longer stop the tears. He took her shriveled hand and kissed it as he continued to sob. He was never able to keep his promise.

"Farewell, my fragile flower... Farewell, my beloved Rhea..."


End file.
